Running:
Once I was asked how long I exercise. When I replied 4-5 hours, the person gasped. I know, that's excessive, so I explained: 1-2 hours talking myself into it and getting ready; 1 hour exercising, and 1hour cooling down, and 1 hour showering, drying my hair, putting on make up and getting dressed. It's a real commitment. Sure, I'd do the dressing and make up anyway, and I do the same stuff anyway that I do while cooling down. But after a workout I'm forced to do the cool down part at that time. I do stuff like sort and wash laundry, empty the dishwasher, pull weeds, sweep the patio or start fixing dinner. Just stuff that's gotta get done.
Writing:
How long does it take to write a book? I've written a first draft in one day. That's not a work day, but a before sunup to well after sun down time frame. That happened to be one of my favorite books. I loved it and have made very few revisions on it because it hasn't needed it. But that's not the norm. Usually it takes me about 1 month to write a manuscript, another month for the first two edits, and three to four months of settling before I resume editing again. I give it about 1 year to have it cleaned up, critiqued and then cleaned up again, and during that year I may have written a second novel. Writing tip: Writing is work. I like to treat it as fun work--an adventure I've never taken before as I've begin a new novel. I meet new characters and they lead me to places I've never experienced. Writing takes time, especially a new novel. With each one I treat it as if I'm a beginner and need to redo the work over and over to get it right. Good things take effort. Better things take even more effort. 
Secrets at Midnight
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 15
Pale blue light illuminated the hotel room. Jenn
rolled over in bed and found Matt sitting at the desk staring intently at his
computer screen. His fingers clicked keys and the screen blinked. She closed
her eyes and pretended she wasn’t in Colorado—a state that had never grabbed
her interested enough to inspire a visit. Matt’s fingers stilled for several
long seconds, then tapped again. The process repeated several more times. What
was he doing—inventing an elaborate scheme with just enough reality mixed in to
fool her? And couldn’t he do it while he drove in stony silence instead of at
this unearthly hour?
The screen filled with lines and Matt replied.
Obviously he wasn’t alone in the hoax. Who was his accomplice, Kevin Curtis—the
big guy who wandered through her yard at a similar hour a few days before and
came back to raid her house? Rising on one elbow to see better she whispered,
“Who are you talking to?” sure something fabricated would fall from Matt’s
deceptive lips.
He replied without turning around. “The office.”
She slumped down. The guy who helped her conquer
algebra, write a creative essay and forge an absentee slip when she was in
eighth grade couldn’t come up with anything original in the middle of the night?
All their recent conversations flooded her mind, convincing her neurons were
misfiring in his brain. “Can't you come up with a more spy-like name than
that?”
His voice responded in a flat monotone. “No.” His
fingers never paused.
“Give me a little time and I'll do it for you so
you don’t sound dumb.” She settled in to analyze what he’d turned into, and
what had started it. Monica? Probably. Or maybe his second wife was only proof
he’d lost brain cells.
“Time's up. What's the new title?” He spun his
chair around and grinned at her.
She shook her head. “I'm at a loss. Creativity
doesn’t happen at this hour.” It was an excuse he could have used as
effectively. She sat up and stared at the screen, but it was too far away to
read. “What are you saying?”
“You're asleep.”
She blinked. That made no sense. Who cared—and
didn’t most people sleep when it was dark and the little hand was somewhere
between three and four? “Oh, I'm sure they were dying to know that. It’s not
worth spending five seconds to write, or ten seconds to read.” She lounged back
on her pillows and shut her eyes. “Can you shut it down?”
“I told them I don't want any questions asked when
someone reviews my spending account and sees I bought a package of diapers.”
“I have money. I can buy diapers.”
“Not with checks or a credit card. Keep your cash
for an emergency.”
“What are they saying back—get a life?”
“Come and see.”
The bed was soft and Katie was warm, but she
managed to summon enough curiosity to scoot out and crouch in front of the
computer screen. There were dozens of lines, but none in English. She ran her
finger across one. “This doesn't make sense. Is it code, or should you be
committed?”
Matt chuckled and typed a crazy combination of
letters, and in reply the screen blinked a new message in bold letters—AD
flashing against a black background. He groaned and grabbed the mouse and
frantically typed commands, regularly pounding the enter key. She stared in
fascination as what appeared to be codes popped up and disappeared. “What’s
going on? Is your computer freaking out because you won’t kiss it good-night
and get some sleep?”
“Yeah, it's gone hey-wire. Maybe a link’s down,” he
muttered, furiously pounding keys and skimming through the return jumble of
letters and numbers.
The giant AD blinked over the text on the screen.
“Maybe an agent’s down,” Jenn slowly said, watching the letters alternate
between red and orange.
He clicked some keys. “Hey, now that’s a thought.”
“I’d make a good spy, don’t you think?” she smugly
replied. “I can out-smart you, out-think you, out-fox you and do whatever spies
do.” She shoved his shoulder. “It’s probably code for ‘After Dark.’ Deciphered,
it means go to bed, dummy.”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving the screen.
“Could be, but probably not. Do you want to know who’s down?”
The letters screamed for attention, but Jenn
yawned. “Not really, unless it’s you. I forgot to pack sleeping pills to slip
into your Coke—and I hereby ban you from caffeine.”
Matt vacated his chair, grabbed her wrist and
pushed her into it. “You don’t get a choice.” He moved the mouse and
double-clicked. A link popped up. He typed. Another link emerged. He pounded
enter several times. An orange code appeared on a black screen. Matt’s bended
bum finally sank to the foot of the bed and he groaned.
“Gibberish upsets me too,” she whispered, tension
building in her neck, and wanting to throw a pillow over his face to knock him
out and smother the computer with another one.
“It’s Curtis. Kevin Curtis,” he softly said.
She stared at him. “The Kevin from my back yard?
Too bad it’s not you.”
He frowned, then pointed to a series of numbers on
the screen. “During surveillance.” His fingers ran to the next group of
symbols. “That's your address.”
She leaned forward and stared. The numbers matched
her house number. She slowly pushed away from the computer. “Don’t spook me.
You know I don’t like it. You typed them.”
Matt seemed lost in another dimension. “Orange
means wounded. Red means dead. I'll keep my eye on this today.”
“Don’t tease me.”
He turned and stared at her as if he’d forgotten
she existed, pausing to examine her expression. His voice came soft and low.
“If I wanted to scare you I’d choose something else—something closer to your
heart and in your realm—maybe heights or going without chocolate. I wouldn’t
pick one of my best friends and associates.” His eyes darted back to the
computer. “Sorry I said anything. Go back to bed and get some sleep. I’ll try
to type quietly.”
Chills rose at the base of her neck and spread
throughout her scalp. Her stomach flip-flopped and she clutched herself as the
codes flashed in solid orange now, highlighting the walls like a wildfire
flaring out of control. Matt snatched away his laptop and pointed toward the
bathroom. “I don't want to buy a computer or hotel before breakfast. Move it,
kid.”
She inched her way to the bathroom. She splashed
water on her face and gulped a glass of stale tasting lukewarm water. Was she
in a nightmare, or was this real? When she returned, Matt was in the chair. She
stood behind him and watched his fingers fly, trying to make sense of his
strange actions. “Has the color changed?” she whispered.
He shook his head without looking up. “Still
orange.”
If everything he said was true it would mean
something entirely different than if he was feeding her a pack of lies. Maybe.
But how could she tell? Only if he talked enough, she decided. “Do you think I
was the target?”
“Probably not, but we haven’t ruled it out.” He
typed for a moment, then stopped and turned to face her. “Jenn, you might have
been a target, but caught them off guard. Maybe they didn't recognize you.
Maybe you weren't originally a target but now you are. Maybe you've never been
a target and never will be.”
“What you’re saying is that maybe you'll never
know? Or, maybe you actually know nothing?”
“We're not in the enemy's head. We don't have the
information.”
She sat down. Twenty-one questions had begun. “Who
is the enemy?”
He ran his hand through his thick hair, pausing and
sizing her up—or searching for a plausible answer. “There are thousands of them
if you count every drug dealer and gun runner. Most don’t have faces or names,
but the closer you get to the top—to the bosses—the smaller the number and the
more significant the names. We want the bosses and everyone below them.”
He was too evasive, so mysterious it was annoying.
“Name one enemy,” she challenged.
“Osama Bin Laden.”
She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. I could have come up
with that one. Can’t you be more original? He’s dead, you know.”
He graced her with an obliging smile. “I know, and the
other terrorists and drug lords haven’t curled up and died since then. How
about Miguel Colonia, General X, The Red Devil or Mr. R. Have you heard of
them?”
She shook her head and stifled a yawn. “Their kids
don't attend Daisy's Day Care. Do you think they’re rich enough to afford
nannies?”
He laughed and leaned back in the chair. “Only
until we catch them.”
“And I haven’t seen them on the news. Did you make
the names up? I could make up names too. Mr. Bad Baron, Madame Creep, Joe
Underworld and Mr. A.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Good try. They like
nicknames, but usually prefer something like El Oro.”
She waved at the computer. “Can you do anything
useful, like check on Nick with that?”
He shrugged and spun his seat back to the screen
and typed commands. Nick's picture appeared along with a long line of letters
and symbols. “Here’s his last comment, let me translate.” His finger ran over
the text. “Hey, buddy, if mosquitoes are hatching in the standing water in my
down spouts, send a pest control company over for me. I'll pay you back later.
Thanks. I owe you big time.”
“That's nonsense. We don't have mosquitoes. He
knows that.” She turned to Matt. “You’re suffering from sleep deprivation. You
should shut it down until you can act half sane.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of a strange comment. Deciphered,
it roughly means: Hey, Matt, if there's trouble buzzing around, like the West
Nile Virus, and it's happening in unexpected places that look innocent, like my
own back yard, do me a favor and get someone from the office over there to take
care of it for me. I owe you big time for protecting my family.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
He grinned and shrugged. “Loosely.”
“West Nile Virus? That’s….” She gasped.
“It’s what?”
“Deadly. A killer. This is a stupid question, but
does Nick know about the woman I stepped on?” She searched his eyes, but they
seemed to hold something back. “Spit it out, just tell me,” she demanded.
He glanced away, then back again and held her gaze.
“I called him while I was outside checking the area.”
She burned him with a glare—if he could interpret
her intention. “You can talk to him, but I can't? That hardly seems fair.” She
jumped up. “It’s wrong, you know. I’m his wife, and you’re what—a work friend.”
He ignored her and turned back to the computer and
typed a command. Monica's face appeared. He faced Jenn again and pointed at his
wife’s beautiful image. “She's been silent since Monday afternoon. No one’s
heard from her. Kevin suspects you stepped on her wrist.” He glanced back at
his wife. “We’re still waiting for evidence from the lab on the fingernail. I
don't think you did, but I'm unsure. What's your opinion? Can you see any
resemblance?”
Jenn helplessly groaned. “Matt, I can’t…. How could
I know? I didn’t see much.”
He grabbed the phone book from the drawer and
ripped out a fistful of pages. He held them up, covering Monica's face and
angling papers downward over her shoulder and covering her waist. “Look at her
hands and arm. Is it similar to what you saw?”
Jenn readjusted the papers, grimacing. It wasn't
anything like what she'd seen, but it stirred memories she wanted erased. She
stared at Matt's beautiful wife, tilting her head to change the angle and bit
her bottom lip. Finally she shook her head. “It wasn't her.”
“She could have gotten her nails redone after she
left your house.”
Jenn pulled a yellow page advertising fencing away
from Monica’s hand. She shook her head again. “Monica isn’t as tan and her
fingers are different. When she stopped by she was wearing a black onyx
necklace and bracelet with big chunky stones. She had on a black sweater, but
it was more form-fitting. You know her—a show off. The dead woman didn't have
breast enlargements, and if she did, she paid too much for not enough.”
Matt chuckled and lowered the remaining ads.
“You’re sure then?”
“Absolutely.” She turned and studied his face. “Why
are you with me instead of looking for her? I could go to my brother's house in
Alabama. Shawn would be happy to see me, and if someone was looking for me, they’d never find me there. Monica’s
your wife—you should be searching for her.”
He broke the gaze and leaned forward and typed a
command into his computer, then turned back. “My job isn't to take care of
Monica. That's her responsibility, and it’s what they pay her for. My job is to
take care of Nick, you and Katie. They pay me to do it, although I'd do it for
free, like back when we were kids. If you and Katie weren't in trouble and Nick
was safe at home at the moment, believe me, I'd be looking for my wife. In the
meantime, the office has the best noses sniffing around. We'll find her and
we’ll keep you out of harm.”
Jenn couldn’t remember Matt ever lying to her, and
definitely not so effectively, so he had to be telling the truth. The air
around him almost seemed to be crackling as a witness. She hesitated, then
reached out and grasped his hand. “Are you afraid?”
He studied her fingers piercing his flesh. “I'm
never not afraid. I just don't let it take control.”
She dropped her hand. “Great confidence building
speech.”
“Hide under the covers if you want, but what good
would it do?”
“I'm not sure. Maybe I'll try it tomorrow.” She
stood up and stretched, then returned to bed and closed her eyes and saw orange
letters morph into red. She pulled Katie close and buried her nose in her soft
hair to ignore them.
“Jenn, you and Katie will be fine. Nick will be
too,” Matt whispered.
“Thanks,” she softly replied.
His fingers resumed clicking computer keys. She
silently cried herself to sleep as her mind turned over every word he’d spoken,
searching for double and hidden meanings.
Every muscle in Jenn’s body ached from unreleased
tension when she awoke, reminding her she wasn’t in her own bed, or even her
own state. The only thing she knew about Colorado was that it had mountains and
snow and she was here—and it had been an unpleasant journey. She ran her tongue
over her teeth. She’d brushed three times before bed, thankfully. When she
rolled over to check on Matt she found him sitting in bed with his laptop
propped on his knees. Had he slept at all?
“Hey, you’re awake,” he said without looking up
when she crawled out of bed.
She rubbed the back of her neck and flexed her
shoulders. “But not fit to be alive. I’ve been chained inside a car too much.
I’m still tired and feel sluggish. I need a good workout.” She walked to the
window and pulled the curtain aside, finding the sun hitting the tops of
distant mountains and the valley basking in early dawn.
“This place has a fitness room. It’s on the main
floor by the pool. Did you pack shoes?”
“No, but fortunately, I tossed them out of the
closet and you packed them with a dozen pairs I probably don't need and will
never wear again because they’re out of style. I ought to throw them away
rather than haul them from state to state. Given another day at home they would
already be in my good will pile.”
“Go down and sweat a little if you want. I'll watch
Katie.”
She stretched. Moving would feel great, but being
away from Matt would be heaven. “Aren't you scared something will happen to
me?” she casually asked.
He shot her a look of mock horror. “Here? In broad
daylight in a Marriott?”
She threw a pillow across the room and hit him in
the side of the head. “Did you and Dell sit there all night solving crimes?”
He laughed and stretched and turned toward her.
“No. Curtis has been upgraded to yellow, which means his injuries aren't life
threatening.”
“Good. I’d hate to have someone die on my account.”
Suddenly she remembered death had brought her to Colorado. She shivered and
hugged herself.
“But maybe he'll lose an arm or leg.”
Her eyes popped. “Are you joking? I have another
pillow.” She snatched it from the bed and readied her aim.
“No. Yellow means he's not out of the woods. Maybe
it's a damaged kidney or liver, or it could be his spinal cord and paralysis.”
“Any other news this morning? Possibly something
better? Have you heard from Nick?”
“No. He’s remained silent—which actually is good news.”
“What about Monica?”
Glancing up from his computer he said, “We haven’t
heard from her yet.”
She shuffled from one foot to another, then decided
to not push his buttons if she wanted a few minutes of peace. She kissed
Katie's cheek and headed for the bathroom to change. “I'll be back in about an
hour,” she said when she emerged. “If Katie wakes up and needs me, come get
me.”
He didn’t look up, but inclined his head slightly.
“Enjoy.”
Enjoy. On
a treadmill hundreds of miles from home with the world upside down? Her steady
pace didn’t hamper her mind as she sifted through the past few days, sorting
information and cataloging confusion. Nearly an hour passed before Matt entered
the fitness room wearing sweats. Judging by the sag in Katie jammies, her
diaper was loaded. Her fist clutched a banana halfway peeled monkey style. Jenn
cooed at her from across the room and blew kisses.
Katie giggled and smeared goo along Matt’s arm. He
set her on his lap and rode a bike as she giggled. Several minutes later Jenn
took her from his arms and headed up to the room. They showered and lotioned
and baby powdered. Jenn blew raspberries on her baby’s chubby tummy. She combed
her curls and wished she'd packed ribbons and bows, but how was she to have
known she’d want them? She played little piggy on her chubby toes before she
put her sandals on. She wished they were on vacation together—with Nick and
minus Matt.
Matt's key card clicked in the lock and the spell
broke. He whisked into the room and grabbed clean clothes from his bag in one
smooth motion as he tossed a little brown bag onto Jenn's bed. “Give me five
minutes,” he said as he hurried toward the shower.
“Take all day. Katie and I will meet you in the
restaurant downstairs,” she called to his retreating back.
He stuck his head out the bathroom door seconds
after it snapped shut. “Wait for me. That's a little more public than I'd
prefer. Check out what's in that package.” He nodded toward the bag before he
disappeared again.
She pulled out a cell phone and perched on the edge
of the bed and tried to figure out how to turn it on. She turned the bag upside
down, but instructions didn’t fall out. She checked the folds in the
bedspread—maybe they’d slipped out when Matt tossed it. Nothing. She checked
under the pillows. Zippo. Katie joined the search, pulling all the
drawers open, tossing pillows off the beds and climbing on the table and
ripping sheets of paper from a note pad.
“Like it?” Matt asked moments later, entering the
room toweling his hair.
Jenn crinkled her brow. “It's cute, but I can’t
figure it out. I can't get the back open to put my SIM card in. How do I turn
it on? Can I call Nick with it?”
Matt rescued Katie from the table and nose-diving if
she danced closer to the edge before he took the phone and flipped the back
off. “You can try calling him, but his phone won't receive your calls until
it's programmed.” He turned the phone on and handed it back. “Go ahead and
try.”
Jenn punched numbers. “There's a busy signal,” she
said in dismay.
“You’ll reach him after it’s programmed.”
She scowled. “That's stupid. I've never heard of
anything like that before. This is a phone, not a walkie-talkie.”
“It’s special. Your new phone and Nick’s are
related, but they won't talk to each other until they've received clearance.”
He grinned mischievously. “High tech spy stuff.”
She shook her head, trying to dislodge his joke.
“I'd believe you if I wanted to, but since I don't, I think you're an idiot.”
She picked up Katie and headed for the door. “I'm going downstairs for
breakfast. Bring your credit card. I'm hungry and you're buying.”
Matt hustled to follow. As they descended in the
elevator he said, “I'll get some numbers programmed into your phone before we
check out. Who else do you want to call?”
“Shawn. Linda Jo. Work. I want text messaging and I
want to e-mail. I want personalized ring tones and the instruction manual.”
He chuckled but didn't commit. The elevator opened
and he followed her out, then took the lead and escorted her to a table. After
they'd ordered he looked around, then zeroed in on her face. “Jenn, no one sees
everything. You proved it by stepping on someone's wrist and....”
She shot him an angry look. “I only briefly had my
dinner last night and I'd like to eat breakfast today and keep it, thank-you.”
She pulled a water glass away from Katie before she could flood the table, and considered
dowsing Matt with it. But would water dilute his craziness?
“What I'm saying is it's good to be aware of your
surroundings. To know what you're really seeing and....”
“White linen and silverware, why? Do you see
something out of place? A missing napkin ring or fork?”
“Not at the moment. But if I did, it would probably
be a person. I'll have Nick send you
through a training session designed for spouses after he gets home. You
can....”
She held her hand up. “Stop teasing me. You've
teased me my whole life. And stop bossing me around. I don't have one brother,
I have two—and you’re the obnoxious one.”
He grinned.
“It's not funny. I’m not sure why, but you seem to
want me spooked. Maybe you're the bad guy. Maybe you planted the body and then hauled it off before the cops
arrived. Do you want me to think you're protecting me, but really, you've sent
Nick a ransom note?”
He shrugged, thoughtfully looking her over. “That’s
a good theory. It could be that way, but it isn't.”
She snatched a fork from Katie before she launched
it across the aisle. “That's what all crooks say, so please shut up and let me
eat in peace. It might be my last meal.” She waved the fork at him, then set it
aside and proceeded to ignore him.
Memories of how she’d proudly told everyone Matt
was her brother—but lived across the street in the double-wide—her rich
brother—rushed through her mind. He was still ten times richer than
her and had moved into something much nicer and bigger, and drove a better
car—until she messed it up. His life was charmed, but not entirely. She stopped
thinking about Matt and all he was and wasn't, his ups and downs, and
concentrated on keeping Katie from using ketchup as hair gel.
After breakfast Matt leisurely packed his bag
before sitting down at his computer. Jenn entertained Katie and then curled up
beside her on the bed in front of the TV and dozed off. It felt like only a few
minutes passed before Matt shook her shoulder. “We need to check out before
one.”
She looked up in surprise. Katie was curled up
beside her, sleeping with Matt’s baseball cap clutched in her fist. He’d been
so intent on getting to Portland—and in a hurry—but had let them nap until
almost noon? She blinked fully awake and slowly got up, pulling Katie into her
arms and pushing her sleeping head onto her shoulder. The baby’s eyes flew open
and naptime ended.
Matt pulled the cap away and plunked it on Katie’s
dark curls, grabbed the bags and led the way to the car. The moment he opened
the door, fumes roiled out and they staggered backward. “You can't make us get
in,” Jenn said, fully witnessing the effects of the unpleasant incident the
night before.
Matt gagged and slammed the door shut, leaning
against it as if trapping everything inside. He glanced up at the merciless
sun, then across the parking lot. “I bought a new car this morning. Instead of
picking it up, I think it might be a better idea to have it delivered.” He
retrieved his phone from his side and placed a call.
“Add a new car seat for Katie,” Jenn requested.
As he made arrangements he led them to the hotel
atrium. Katie wiggled out of her arms and ran to a water pond and tried
collecting coins. Jenn held the back of her shorts to prevent her from tumbling
in. As Katie giggled and kicked, balanced on the edge of disaster, out of the
corner of her eye, Jenn watched a man enter. Matt approached him and they
spoke. A few minutes later the man left. When he returned he handed Matt
something, then left again. Matt approached, grinning and jangling two sets of
keys. He tossed one into her lap. “We're on our way.” He reached down and
picked up Katie and tossed her in the air and caught her—just like he'd done hundreds
of times before.
Reluctantly, Jenn followed them out the front
doors, stowing her key in her purse and silently congratulating herself for
knowing what had transpired without graduating from a bogus spouse’s detective
school and being taught how to figure things out.
A small black Mercedes SUV hugged the curb. Matt
stowed the bags as Jenn figured out the buckles in the new baby seat. She
deeply inhaled. “It smells new and clean—like the smell of the car she’d always
wanted but would never own.” She got in and ran her fingers over soft leather
seat. Fiddling with knobs and controls, Matt smiled.
Denver didn’t lack radio stations Jenn discovered
as she played with the sound system. She adjusted the bass and volume. “You
must make twenty times what Nick does if you can afford this puppy.”
“It’s a little nicer than I expected,” he
commented. “Unfortunately, it belongs to the office. I'll have to send in a
detailed financial report. My Toyota will be cleaned and shipped home at my
expense. Maybe I'll send the bill to Nick. He said he owes me big time.”
Jenn laughed because she managed the family finances.
“Fat chance.” And then she frowned. Who really had bought the car for
Matt? Certainly not the same company Nick worked for. There was no doubt he was
riding in someone else’s pocket.
End Chapter 15
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